It wasn’t that type of show. That’s what this pressman (minus a press pass) overheard near the capacity bar. It was Pete Rock on the wheels warming up the crowd. Then De La Soul for a long, bizarre set. Then mighty Mos Def clad in garish garb commandeering the limelight in self-indulgent fashion, Slick Rick in tow. Another wrinkle in time in Philadelphia, a city that recently withstood two crippling blizzards in less than a week. A city trying to thaw, a country teetering on the edge of double-dip recession. An awkward moment for a sold-out true school party. Thursday night to boot, not quite the weekend.
At the Chicago tour stop, there were confirmed reports of a MosDOOM sighting. In Philly, Mr. Def practically threw his DOOM-Standom under a Greyhound. The specter of DOOM clearly had become a trope for this tour, what with De La finishing their set with an odd kabuki-theater-styled version of “Rock.Co.Kane.Flow.” After three rewinds of this emblematic jam, Trugoy The Dove was to be found face down on the stage while Mase hit the killswitch. The crowd murmured in apprehensive, stunned silence. Was DOOM going to make a legendary cameo here at the Troc? Well, of course not. So De La wrapped their longish set with a severe case of hip-hop blue balls.
Mos Def launched into his set after a 10-minute stage-change. He focused on cuts from last year’s Ecstatic LP, a solid album but anyone with any wherewithal was sticking around for Slick Rick’s grand entrance, aka his verse on “Auditorium.” And who would of thunk it. The Ruler’s mic was frtizing as he strutted onstage. Ah, hip-hop, your penchant for live technical difficulties never ceases to amaze. Some stagehand acted quickly though and thrust a working mic into the hip-hop legend’s palm. Rick preserved the moment when his voice boomed out over the live mic device. The house had been poised for roof-off but due to soundman gremlins, a monumental moment was left begging. Still, Ricky D burst into 3 of his classics, “Hey Young World,” “La Di Da Di,” and the climactic “Children’s Story.” And ‘knock ‘em out the box Rick’ he did, giving this show the semi-epic feel it deserved.
There was the glaring omission of Jay Electronica, tragically double-booked (yeah I’d choose London over Philly too), on this slushy night in the City of Brotherly Thugs. Mos Def took time out from a masturbatory 15-minute skin-banging session to address the DOOM apparition from Chicago. “I can’t speak for another man, but Mos Def don’t do impostors…” or words to that effect. Perhaps we have seen the last of Mos’ drunken homages to Daniel Dumile, maybe he even felt a bit cheated in Chicago. A fairly stirring version of “Umi Says” capped off a night that could have been transformative, but as with all things musical and American these days, settling for a few moments of lock-jawed joy was all one could hope for.
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